


Be Born in Your Father's Smile

by Claudia_Lilith



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Major Character Death, Neil killing people, SO, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_Lilith/pseuds/Claudia_Lilith
Summary: Neil snaps over Christmas break





	1. You Were Born in Blood

Neil blinked up at the stand lights, struggling past the dizziness to regain his bearings. It had been a week, it had been a month, he just got here, he’d always been here. The red and black walls rushed by in his peripheral vision, the familiar feeling of an exy court supported him from underneath. There were people talking, annoyed grumblings that just barely managed to penetrate his subconscious.  
There was blood on the court, each stumble tearing more and more out of him.  
“Get up, we don’t have time for this.” Jean’s figure hovered over Neil’s prone body. The irritated french just barely piercing through the static buzzing in his ears. There was shouting in the distance, anger tinged voices closing in on him. The edges of his vision were oddly grey, the sound of static overwhelming everything until even Jean’s persistent, worried french could no longer get through.

Someone was touching him. 

It hurt, there was pain as the fingers dug into still healing wounds along his torso and forced him up into a standing position. For just a moment, everything was completely still. In front of him stood Riko, faced turned ugly with hatred and glee. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled something, something about obeying? Something about punishment?  
Nathaniel smiled. There was a racket in his hand, heavier than he was comfortable with, perfect for it’s new job. Riko went to punch him in the gut, ready to hand out pain and suffering and torment and blood. 

Neil sidestepped the blow, bringing the heavy racket up straight into Riko’s arm, grinning at the pained scream that echoed through the court as the bone broke, as the arm bent backwards under force 

The Ravens watched in horror as Neil ripped the helmet off of their captain and then clocked him in the temple. They watched in silence as Neil took the racket in his hands and slammed it into Riko’s unprotected skull once, twice, three times. Blood smeared across the floor.

It was messier than knives, but there was still time. Neil turned to the court entrance and ran, ran faster than he ever ran on court, with a ferver not felt since his mother's death. Straight at Tetsuiji. 

It was rather jarring when he slammed into the man full force, hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing, pressing. Neil felt his father's smile, felt the intensity of the blue in his eyes as he saw himself reflected in the dying man’s face. Neil let go, watching as the man gasped for air on the ground before slamming his foot into Tetsuji’s throat. He was choking, dying. The static was overwhelming. Behind him some of the ravens were screaming, horrified at what they had seen. 

Neil ignored them in favor of the phone tucked into Tetsuji’s pocket. He dialed a number long since memorized. 

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” the terse, untrusting british tone on the end softened the edges of Nathaniels smile.

“Good to hear from you as well Uncle.”

The foxes would be safe.

Andrew would be safe.

 

The Moriyama’s would pay.


	2. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait everyone!

The Silence that stretched over the court was deafening. The ravens dared not even breath, watching the pools of blood spread over the court. 

In the end it was Jean who gathered the courage to approach Neil, making sure to carefully choreograph his movements as he placed a hand on the redheads shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” There was a noticeable tremor in the frenchmans voice. “The main branch will come for all of our heads now, you’ve signed our death warrants.” 

The smile Neil turned on his partner was eerie, blue eyes carefully wiped blank and teeth bared for all the world to see. He searched Jean’s face for a moment before responding, as if they were talking about the color of his shoes. “I’d like to see them try.” 

Neil looked over Jean’s shoulder at the rest of the team, trembling with fear and shock after watching their couch and captain be brutally murdered by the fourth member of the perfect court. Several of the freshman players appeared to have wet themselves, one of them was even crying. “Why are you all still here?” Neil cocked his head to the side, staring them down, smile never faltering. “Remember,” he continued, when none of them made any motion to leave immediately, “Nothing happened here.”

The team nodded frantically as the tension snapped and they scattered off the court, racing away from what they had seen. 

Once they had finished their flight Neil turned to his partner, smile wavering as his hands began to tremble. “We need to get rid of the bodies.” Neil’s voice had an odd quality to it, a faint trace of hysteria edged along the outline of his mouth, shone out of eyes glistening with terror. Jean nodded slowly, eyes never wavering from the man breaking down in front of him, mind racing at the impossibility of the situation he found himself in. 

“How?” Jean reached out to hold Neil’s hands inside of his, quelling the shaking a small bit. 

“Uncle Stuart is sending people to take care of the bodies,” Neil’s voice was little more than a hoarse croak, he was visibly trying to keep it together, just trying to make it through moment to moment. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Jean nodded, slowly walking Neil away from the bodies towards the showers. It would be best to clean him up before any authorities happen to show up, best to to their best to become human beings before the world swarmed into the nest to take them away and face them before the judgment of the authorities and, eventually, the main branch. 

Neil followed along willingly, letting Jean strip him down and clean him off, barely blinking when he was bundled up and dressed in one of Jean’s too big sweaters and some soft sweatpants. The whole process took no more than twenty minutes, by the time they returned to the court there wasn’t a sign that there had ever been two bodies lying on the floor, no sign that a crime had ever been committed. Neil shook himself slightly, slowly coming back to awareness before gazing up at Jean, silently trying to get his attention.  
“What do we do now?” Jean exclaimed, desperation leaking through his silent panic. 

Neil shrugged, sluggishly tugging Jean off the court and towards the doors. “Britain.”  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They fled from the scene of the crime, Neil had reassured Jean that they didn’t need passports, everything was already taken care of. They just had to hurry, they had to outrun the Moriyama’s. They had a very small window of time to get to the airport, but Neil knew it could be done, he had done it often enough.

He had promised not to run, and the only way he could keep that promise was by fleeing the country. Winter break would last a few more weeks, which gave him three weeks to bring down the whole of the Moriyama empire.

When they reached the airport they were met by a fairly shipper man with a hint of a British accent at the front doors. It had taken three hours of driving a car Neil had hotwired from the Edgar Allen parking lot. 

Jean had started complaining the moment Neil had told him their destination, going as far as to turn to Neil on multiple occasions to regale him of the time he swore to his father he would never step foot on British soil, but now, face to face with the man handing out a new chance at life, he was silent. Taking the passport and plane tickets handed to him solemnly. 

Neil breathed in panic, eyes roving over the airport inhabitants, gauging potential threats in the crowd. After purchasing some children's band aids from one of the airport shops they covered their numbers and kept their heads down. 

Every moment was charged with tension, every breath a moment away from hyperventilation. Lasting up to the moment they finally stepped onto the plane and lifted off the ground. 

Andrew hated heights.

Andrew Hated planes.

This was for Andrew.

**Author's Note:**

> May continue this as a larger story if people want me to. Just shoot me a message if ya'll are interested!


End file.
